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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207736">Supernova</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonyB89/pseuds/SonyB89'>SonyB89</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Characters of Pedro Pascal [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mentalist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art department boss, Colleagues to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, Marcus Pike Deserved Better, Marcus deserves love, Pedro Pascal Characters, awkward first kiss, pedro pascal fandom - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:53:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonyB89/pseuds/SonyB89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With only eight hours left to solve a case involving a fake painting, Marcus Pike and his team are frustrated - until a side remark from the agent gives one of his consultants the clue to solve the case.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marcus Pike/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Characters of Pedro Pascal [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Supernova</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, I recently rewatched the Mentalist and BBC Sherlock - and I'm sure most of you know that in S1E3, there is a case involving a certain Vermeer painting.<br/>I couldn't help but think about how this case was solved, so i tweaked the story a little and gave the Case to Marcus Pike and his team, borrowing it from Sherlock :) I hope you'll enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The whole team stared at the painting at the end of the room, and Lynn was sure it was taunting them.</p><p>It was a fake, they <em>knew</em> it was a fake, but it had passed every possible test. If they couldn’t proof that it was a forgery, it would be declared as a genuine piece, their case would fall apart, millions of dollars would be lost and the culprits would walk, free to continue with their schemes.</p><p>Marcus stopped pacing the room and decided to open the windows for some much needed air. His team of agents, consultants and researchers was exhausted.<br/>
They had been trying to find a prove of forgery for the last six days and they were running out of time.</p><p>The curator they had apprehended and were sure was behind the forgeries flooding the market had been detained for almost 38 hours. In only 8 more, they would be forced to let him go.</p><p>“Alright, people. We have eight hours to crack this. I’m open for ideas. <em>Anything</em> can be useful”, he said, trying to get motivation back up.<br/>
A choir of groans, popping joints, pleas for coffee and yawns answered him.</p><p>Marcus Pikes team was good.<br/>
In fact, he was sure that it was the best team he ever had. Ever since he’d moved to DC a year ago, throwing himself into his work to forget about his catastrophic luck at love, it’s been the pride of his career to work with so many talented people.</p><p>Lynn was a hire he was especially proud of.</p><p>On one of his days off, he had decided to visit a local museum to get to know all the art hot spots.<br/>
She had been arguing with a museum official, claiming that a painting on the wall was obviously a fake and nobody had believed her – until he had listened to her reasoning and the director had ordered an examination.</p><p>Her reasoning and proof had been right on every account.<br/>
She was entirely self-taught in art history and for her it had been just a hobby, until he had hired her as a consultant.</p><p>He couldn’t deny that he thought she was a piece of art herself.</p><p>Her hair was a very light green, like mint, and of course it was dyed but on her it looked almost natural. It ended just an inch under her chin and had a slight curl.<br/>
He was sure that if anybody else would dress the way she dressed they would look absolutely ridiculous, but every outfit she composed looked unique and fitted her in a very special way.</p><p>For the last two days she had dressed “tame” for her standards, probably because no one in the team had had the time to do laundry. She was wearing a pair of white jeans and chocolate colored leather boots. All of it was topped with a t-shirt that featured a Monet painting, in light blues and other pastel colors.</p><p>“Aaargh!.. Reveal your secrets to me, you stupid piece of canvas!”, she cried, staring fiery daggers at the painting.</p><p>It was time for a sugar break, it seemed. Everytime Lynns blood sugar plummeted, she got a touch dramatic.</p><p>It was time for a foodrun.</p><p>“Alright, we need a break. Jenkins, Heller – run down to the cafeteria and get a food package ready. The boss is paying.”</p><p>Lynn leaned against at the edge of the table closest to the painting, crossed her tattooed arms in front of her chest and frowned at it.</p><p>Marcus stood next to her, handing her a chocolate bar.</p><p>“What are you thinking?”, he asked.</p><p>She uncrossed her arms, rubbing her neck, making the dozens of bracelets she wore jiggle.</p><p>The rural landscape of the painting, with the small farmhouse and the starry sky, with it’s tranquil and dark colouring was beautiful – there was no doubt about it.</p><p>That didn’t mean that it was an original by the artist. And proving that was the only way to stop the man a few rooms over in the interrogation room.</p><p>“The answer is right in front of me, I can <em>feel</em> it!”, she whined. “My brain <em>itches</em>. I know it’s fake. We all know it’s fake. And I have the feeling that it’s so easy to prove! Ohh and I hate that he knows we know it.”</p><p>Marcus sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“Well, if we don’t find a piece of proof soon, only heaven knows what will happen to all the rest of the art he’s going to flood the market with.”</p><p>He could almost feel the change in the air.</p><p>It was like an electric charge went through his partner as she slowly straightened herself, her pupils enlarging. The tension was almost palpable.</p><p>“Heaven…”, she mumbled, leaning closer to the painting analysing every brush stroke, every nook and cranny and every speck of paint.</p><p>“<em>Oh my god…”</em></p><p>She turned around, giddy and suddenly full of energy.</p><p>“Lynn? What is it?”</p><p>“Marcus Pike”, she said. “<em>You are a genius</em>!”</p><p>Placing her hand on his cheeks, she pulled him down, kissed him full on the mouth, a fierce kiss full of passion, released him and grabbed her leather bag from the table.</p><p>“I think I know how we can prove it’s a fake. I need two - no three hours. I’ll be back. Don’t wait for me. <em>Ohhh this is brilliant</em>!”</p><p>The rest of the team watched Lynn dash out of the room, while Marcus was standing in front of the painting,  still like a statue, blinking rapidly.</p><p>“D-Did she just…”, he asked.</p><p>“Jepp…”</p><p>“D-do you think she knows what she just did?</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>An embarrassed blush decorated his cheeks, making his team giggle.</p><p>They all agreed that it was about time something happened between them. But there was time for that later. It seemed like they were one step closer to finally closing the case.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After almost three hours, Marcus got a text from Lynn, asking her to get the interrogation room ready.</p><p>He had put the picture on display, before bringing the curator of the museum in to steep a bit longer, but he didn’t seem nervous at all.</p><p>His lawyer was talking to him, small talk, as he was sure that his client would be out of the FBI building after this farce.</p><p>Marcus was once again pacing, this time in front of the interrogation room, waiting for Lynn. His thoughts skipped from the case to the kiss and back again and his heart was racing for the same reasons.</p><p>When the elevator doors finally opened, Lynn hurried down the corridor, stacks of papers in her arms.</p><p>“Marcus, do you trust me?”, she asked, not bothering with greeting him.</p><p><br/>
She was grinning from ear to ear, her face was flushed and her body seemed to run on nothing more than adrenalin.</p><p>The question caught him off guard, but he nodded.</p><p>“Of course I do.”</p><p>“Then let me go in there with you. I can prove it. I’ll give you the bastard on a silver platter.”</p><p>It was not procedure to let the consultants in with the agents, but he figured he was the boss, so he could do what he pleased.</p><p>“Are you absolutely sure?”, he asked.</p><p>He couldn’t ignore the fire and absolute certainty in her eyes.</p><p>That was all the reason he needed to allow her to accompany him.</p><p>He signed for the others to enter the room next door, so they could watch from behind the mirror, before he took a last deep breath and entered the room after Lynn.</p><p>“Agent Pike, finally”, the lawyer sighed, acting exhausted. “Are you finally prepared to give up this ridiculous charade and let my client go?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not, councilor. In fact, I’m quite sure he will be our guest for a little while longer.”</p><p>The curator, a pompous man, gold rings, a mustache that really didn’t suit him and with a suit that was at least two sizes too big for his skinny frame, chuckled.</p><p>“Really now? Haven’t I told you already that the painting is genuine? Haven’t you tested it? Multiple times?”, he asked, mockingly.</p><p>“I’m sure under normal circumstances you’d be surprised if I told you that there are master forgers out there who know exactly how to bypass these tests”, he said. “But I’m quite sure you already know all about that.”</p><p>Marcus sat down on the chair opposite the lawyer, while Lynn put down the folders she had been holding onto the desk.</p><p>“If you have not found any proof that the painting is indeed fake, Agent Pike”, the lawyer continued, “then we’re done here.”</p><p>He was about to stand up, but Lynn took a stand beside the painting.</p><p>“Oh, but we have proof. And I suggest you listen very carefully. You’ll need all the information you can get if you want to be any help to your client at all.”</p><p>The curator chuckled, pointing at her.</p><p>“Who is that?”, he asked Marcus, looking from him to her and back. “Am I to be ridiculed by an chubby hipster barbie with tattoos and no sense of fashion?”</p><p>Marcus rammed his fist onto the table, making them all jump.<br/>
“She is the best consultant I have and the reason you’re going to cry like a little baby in a few moments, so I suggest you watch your mouth.”</p><p>“Mister Chandler”, Lynn said, grinning. “You said that you’re an expert. Just to recap, tell me again when this painter lived and when he painted his most prominent masterpieces.”</p><p>The curator exchanged a look with his lawyer, who nodded.</p><p>“He was born in 1612 in France, moved to Italy in 1630 and painted there. He moved to Sicily in 1650, where he painted his most popular masterpieces, including this one, before he died of a fever in 1669.”</p><p>Lynn nodded.</p><p>“I agree with you, his works are absolute masterpieces. The brushstrokes, the colours, absolutely wonderful. And he was known to be very detailed, was he not? Every tree, every bush, every house was really there when he painted them, correct?”</p><p>Chandlers brows furrowed, but he nodded. “T-That’s correct. He is known for his accuracy. He took great pride in it.”</p><p>“All these questions have been answered already, Agent Pike. What is the point of all this?”, the lawyer said, annoyed.</p><p>“The point is”, Lynn said, “that landscapes change. But one of these changes is proof that the painting can't possibly be a genuine piece by the artist.  The accuracy of the painter, Mister Chandler, is your downfall. Do you know why?”</p><p>He chuckled again, but seemed a bit nervous this time.</p><p>“Pray tell.”</p><p>“Because the night sky rarely changes. But when it does, people remember.”</p><p>Lynn handed one of the folders over to Marcus, whose gears were turning, trying to figure out what she was on about.</p><p>Then she pointed at the painting again.</p><p>“This”, she said, not able to suppress the tone of triumph in her voice, “is the Van Buren supernova. An exploding star that appeared in the night sky in the year 1858. Imagine my surprise when I found it in this painting, painted almost 200 years prior. Would you mind explaining that to me?”</p><p>All the colour drained from the curators face and even the lawyer was at a loss for words. And Marcus was grinning from ear to ear, not sure which feeling in his gut one. The feeling that he found Lynn extremely sexy in this moment, or the feeling that he finally had the criminal by the balls.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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